*
I end up at times
visiting old friends
dinners stretching
.
over time feeding
our souls
the privilege
.
of recalling
the spirit’s
visitations
.
our hearts
a candle burning
quietly
.
steadily shaking
in the evening
breeze leaves
.
we are made to fall
and to die
full of colors
.
when it’s season
.
.
“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. This poem comes from that collection.
l
*
life as a bird
an egg in a nest
in unexpected
places hidden
cared for and guarded
with parental
love cracking to
the first light revelation
being fed and
taught to sing
before I could fly out
into everlasting
.
.
.
*
I don’t think
heaven is upward
.
I don’t think
God is in the sky
but I think
God is in the air
.
when I look
up to the clouds
I fell God is
there up around
.
inside and
everywhere
God is like air
.
. 
.
*
approaching the day
with dancing
thoughts
to linger in god’s
presence
light
that stays with me
at night
and in my slumber
.
.
.
This poem is part of the published collection California Notebooks 02
.
.
*
under or above
removed from usual
grounds from valleys
to enter quieter realms
stillness and marvel
to be marginal
observing whether
with fish or birds
a new silence
lingering in
eternity
This poem is part of the collection Crossing Riviera.
By the way, in case you wish to give me some feedback based on your experience or instruction, this new Blocks Editor DRIVES ME CRAZY!!! Not sure it works for poems… even the Schedule seems more lengthy and complicated and, sorry for the past few weeks, missing the usual posting time and dates – I was experimenting with the Block Editor! Arrgh…
*
while we artists
on earth spend days
hardly making
a living as we struggle
to find the right
hues the precise color
to define a day
to portray time tell me
my dear where
you now indulge beauty
where time is
no more what color is
the forever
.
⁃ To Michelle Pelletier –
.
.
*
the wildest
is at the bottom
of peace
.
the loneliest
is found among
a crowd
.
the kindest
is yourself forgiving
after rage
.
.
.
Poem from the collection Silente
.
Last week no poems were ever published due to the gravity of George Floyd’s killing and in observance and solidarity of Black Out Tuesday and Black Lives Matter.
*
before is the bird’s
song and the occasional
car passing by
then the refrigerator
freezing while shaking
the hot water boiler
or an airplane
far away the mailman
comes dropping
volumes of papers
we need to lift glance
at a minute then dispose
that’s how days roll
away how solitude
serves me well
.
.
.
This poem is from the California Notebook collection, available in paper book and digital format.
*
in between loving cats
and feeding elders
roaming paths
it was the caressing
with my eyes of the olive
trees barks twisted by
the winds and the lack
of water – is that the look
my soul has – she had no
idea life was business
to attend same the church
and the cats and the elderly
.
.
This poem is part of the collection Not Rosaries Nor Missals.
–
*
they panic no one
around the streets
.
no one in their cars
no noise nor pollution
.
they keep the tv loud
letting anger lash out
.
or let despair cover
their trapped bodies
.
they weep the chance
they resist they curse
.
.
.
*
I knew the hardest
was not being locked in
but the coming out
the count of the missing
ones their blinders
down as you take your
long missed stroll
.
that time has not arrived yet
.
but the count has
started once you get time
at hand the socials
platforms open up some
profiles have black
some tears and weeping
so far is two at day
.
way too high the number
of my friends who are no more
we are still on lock down
.
April is the cruelest month
I dare to strongly hope
.
.
*
was dreaming of
sunny awakenings
sweet cuddling and words
few – tight together
.
was getting out to say
good morning – gratitude
will not fail me
a smile in spite
of everything
.
I will hold
happiness
between
my hands
.
.
.
*
a place where
is no expectations
from others to be
some kind of perfect
god under sunshine
to relax where
everything in its
natural beauty lines up
me not too big
nor too small
for some people
doors where
my key wasn’t fitting
may be one
of my crazy dreams
.
.
.
Reverberations, Unpublished, 2013.
*
I will walk away from
the crowds and their buzz
finding an island to float serene
on way away from cravings
looks and strong odors
to my own shadow
well defined
.
.
Poem from the unpublished collection Intertextures – Crossing Rivieras, 2013.
*
tonight
the moon is full
emptied from a thousand
engagements I lay in hot
water maybe illuminated
from the sky the silence
repose approaching
hidden from light
an upside down world
a somersault and a wriggle to
find myself wondering star under
inside some lights I turn off
before the thoughts – then the eyes
slightly vibrating
weightless in the space
I found within
